Archetypes
by ClubSauce
Summary: Temari's a city girl. Shikamaru's a country boy. They meet under amusing circumstances and quickly find their differences hard to overcome. ShikaTema AU Rated for fun cursing. Read and review!
1. The City Girl

**A/N: **Y'all. If you read this story,_** PLEASE LEAVE ME A REVIEW!**_ And forgive me for all the Southern stereotypes you'll run across. Roll Tide anyways.

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><p><strong>Archetypes<strong>

**The City Girl**

Temari couldn't remember ever flying coach. Even during the brief period of financial uncertainty her dead father left behind, she and her brothers never sank below business class.

She was a first class kind of women, the firstborn child in her wealthy family's latest generation. The Sabakus might have originally risen to the top through decades of notoriety, but that reputation was close to being shattered.

A graduate of Harvard Business School at the unlikely age of 23, Temari quickly became a force to be reckoned with on the east coast. Her brothers followed suit, and when their father's will left Temari in charge, the two eldest siblings mutually decided to turn the title over to their youngest brother.

Four years later, with the most capable as Chief Executive Officer flanked by Temari as Chief Financial Officer and Kankurou as Chief Operating Officer, the Sabaku children, better known by their moniker the "Sand Siblings," brought about an era of unprecedented respect to their once daunting name.

So why the fuck was she flying coach?

The answer lay in Temari's destination – Birmingham, Alabama. She had no reason to protest when Gaara assigned her to this particular convention. He was the head of Sabaku Corp. but more importantly he was her baby brother. She'd do anything he asked her to.

Regardless, never in her life would she turn down this opportunity. The Global Business Forum, the world's leading business symposium, held their conferences only once every four years. Most businesses worldwide desperately work to impress the GBF council, but only the best receive the sought-after invitation.

Temari and her brothers set a record (a made up record. Only Temari kept track of things like that) when they were offered the chance after just one cycle at the helm of their company. And since GBF invitees become members for life, the young trio basically guaranteed an easy ride to the top.

But seriously, no one told her to expect this level of shittiness.

The state of Alabama must have paid a shit ton of money to convince GBF they'd make a good host city. Temari wondered how many preachers' daughters it took to change the minds of the council.

She could've sworn Milan was on the list for 2012. With other potential cities like Rio de Janeiro and Seoul, why Birmingham? How the fuck did it even qualify to be on the same list as some of the greatest cities in the world? Maybe they meant Birmingham, England, and in some freak accident selected its Alabama counterpart instead.

It didn't matter anymore. She was already there. She'd just have to forget about the complete lack of amenities this city offered. The airport didn't have enough runway space to land private planes, and they didn't have contracts with any first-class airlines. What a barn for an airport, she chuckled to herself, too bored and pissed to do anything else.

Sure, she was brooding like a total bitch. Grumpiness makes a bitch out of everyone. At least she was acting out of character, something she proudly acknowledged. She usually never dwelled on her wealth. She wasn't one to flaunt colorful cars or close down malls to shop.

Her family came from old money, and she new better than to take complete credit for her success. As far as she was concerned, the foremost reason for her success in life was her parents' decision to fuck the night she was conceived.

There was some work on her part. Very hard work at that. After all, you don't graduate summa cum laude from Princeton at 19 and double major in a span of two years without spilling blood, sweat, and tears. You certainly can't successfully expand an already thriving business with your siblings and make your company even better than it already was without wanting to jump out a window at times.

Still, she knew fully well how lucky she was.

But fuck that shit.

Right now Temari cursed her heiress status. She'd never known anything outside of luxury. Observation was one thing, but actuality was a whole 'nother. Back in her office she could often see people at a bus stop, waiting for their only way of getting home. Every now and then, broke college students would pass by her building carrying bags of the only groceries they could afford.

She never had to experience things like that. She was born into a world filled with high standards, but was that her fault?

Nope, she thought. She didn't care if she was an embarrassment for getting upset in an average situation. For once in her life, Temari let herself believe she was above dirty seats. Above stale air that smelled like peanuts. Above pooping babies and the mothers that ignored them.

Screw Gaara. This was a trip for Kankurou. He would have slept through this flight and found a dainty Southern girl to fuck in his hotel. Whatever. It would be over soon.

She stepped off the plane expecting to find relief. Instead, after walking the distance through the jet bridge, she got a face full of the South. She had never heard the phrase "Roll Tide" before in her life, but it seemed to be a staple of Alabamian language. She saw a Pizza Hut to her left followed by a soft serve ice cream stand to its right. And whaddya know? A line of 11 people eager to get their fat hands on greasy cheese and fudge toppings. Sighing, she thought, Yup, I'm a total bitch tonight.

She grudgingly used the restroom, despite being appalled by the people and the room itself. It wasn't actually that bad, and Temari knew that. Her annoyance washed over her the moment she stepped off the airport in New York and onto the common plane. Well, not quite then. More like the moment the male flight attendant started hitting on her.

It built and built with every passing minute until the tiniest inconveniences made her want to punch a wall. Under normal circumstances, Temari wouldn't even notice bumps in the carpeting or slow walkers. She needed excuses to vent, even if that meant glaring at everyone and everything.

My bags better be here by now, she bitterly thought and made her way down the escalator to the airport's only other floor.

She knew better than to look for a sign with her name on it. No town car was waiting for her tonight. Her office could only find a shuttle service run by a guy named Shikaku. Well, at least he's Japanese, she thought, as if their common ethnicities would magicly provide some sort of new hope for her day so far.

It turns out her bags weren't there yet. She made her way to rest on a bench – more like a low table that people happened to sit on – but eventually decided against it.

Thinking of ways to pass the time, she considered walking the length of the airport and back, a feat she probably could have accomplished in less than a hundred steps. She thought to make conversation with a fellow passenger, only to realize that she hated everyone. Giving up, she chose to watch and wait for that rusty metal conveyor belt to start moving.

Looking through the blurry windows into the even blurrier night, Temari tried to spot her shuttle. Taxi. Hummer. Another taxi. Ah, there it is, she cynically celebrated. At that moment the sirens started to ring.

"Attention passengers from Flight 209 from New York to Birmingham. Your luggage is unloading on Carousel 1. Many bags look alike so please be sure to check the tags before you claim your luggage."

Naturally, her bags were the last to arrive. But they arrived, and that's all Temari cared about at that moment. She headed for the exit, opting out of the revolving door she just witnessed an old couple get stuck in. With both hands handling her rolling bags and expecting the alternative exit to open by itself, she walked head first into the glass door.

"Ugh," she grunted in frustration while turning around to open the door with her back. She struggled to drag her bags through the narrow entryway. "Thank you, officer," she faked to the policeman who held open the second door. I'll put up with your lingering eyes if it means getting out of here, you mother fucker, she simultaneously thought.

One step closer to peace and quiet, she reassured herself. The only redeeming thing about this trip so far was that her staff kindly booked out her shuttle. The small family-owned business didn't hesitate to accept the extra cash in return for her guaranteed trip alone.

She approached the van, squinting at the man in the driver's seat. He looked up at her and stared for a moment, then rushed out of his vehicle. Temari took in his height as he stepped around the van. He looked clean, something Temari greatly appreciated. In his white shirt and blue jeans, with piercing eyes and tied black hair, he guardedly spoke in a clear voice.

"Temari Sabaku?"

"That would be me."

He looked her in the eye with the darkest eyes she'd ever seen. She couldn't help but match his gaze. He broke contact and reached for her bags, wordlessly offering to rid her of her luggage.

Temari watched him work and couldn't help but notice the contrast in their attire. Here she was in a $500 tailor-made suit watching as this plainly-dressed stranger loaded her bags in the shuttle's trunk. She didn't really care, but she wondered if he did.

The trunk doors shut and he came back around, this time opening the passenger's door. Was he going to say anything? She couldn't help but wonder. Seconds passed as Temari waited for him to speak. Fuck it, she inwardly cursed and climbed into the van. He shut the door, only taking his eyes off her to walk to his respective side.

Key in the ignition, the engine turned on and Temari finally got her wish. Or so she thought.

"So you're headed to Huntsville?"

"What?" she said in a panic.

"The person who made your reservation said you needed to reach Huntsville."

…

"For some sort of business convention. Global Business Foundation or something like that."

"Hm. Do you mind if I call someone real quick?" she asked.

"Not at all."

She pulled out her iPhone and dialed her secretary's number.

"Jonathan, what city is the symposium in?" she burst. "Why didn't you tell me that, then? You didn't think I need to know information like that? Ugh. At least tell me what hotel you booked. It better be good." She dejectedly hung up. "Well, I guess I'm headed to Hunstville. How long is the drive?"

"Two hours."

Temari let her head fall back on her seat, giving in to defeat. This day fucked her over. Utter misery clouded her mind.

"You can fall asleep if you want to," her nameless driver quietly said.

She damn well wished she could.

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><p><strong>AN: **Oh, brother. Let's see.

I live in the South, though I'm from San Diego. Birmingham and Alabama in general aren't at all what I made them to be. Everyone should give the South a try. Southern hospitality beats just about anything. As does college football.

For the record, I know absolutely nothing about the business world and New York. I'm totally making everything up.

I wrote a smaller version of this and then decided to beef it up the only way I knew how: with boring and unnecessary filler. I applaud you if you managed to trudge through it all the way to the end. And I thank you as well.

I'm a total sucker for office romances. Same with poor boy/rich girl stories. Add those two archetypes and throw in where I live, and this is what I got.

I exaggerated just about everything in this story. I'm worried that it's hard to believe. But I had to so things hit you as hard as they hit Temari. _The Things They Carried _put it nicely. "It wasn't a question of deceit. Just the opposite: he wanted to heat up the truth, to make it burn so hot that you would feel exactly what he felt."

I really doubt these are the personalities you personally attribute to Shikamaru and Temari. It's pretty ideal for me, though. I like a responsible Temari and a reserved Shikamaru. I actually wanted to post this on fictionpress but figured more people would read it if I made it a Naruto fanfic. So forgive me if they seem completely out of character. I'll try to fight it. _**All I want are reviews!**_

This author's note practically took up a third of the word count, and that's totally fine by me.

Oh, and hey! Check out my profile because I'm lonely! Feed me with your attention. I'm hungry for some lovin'.


	2. The Country Boy

**AN:** **Y'ALL_._** Favoriting (akin to "liking" on Facebook [I didn't make up that awful word.{I love math.}]) and Story Alerts are nice and all, but **I'd much rather have reviews.**

Special thanks to **Dutchman Sjorsie** for reminding me that other countries indeed exist outside America, something my socialized public education trained me to deny. I'm sorry I didn't make this universal. There are footnotes in this one that explain "American" things.

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><p><strong>Archetypes<strong>

**The Country Boy**

_DOWN 58: Suburbanite's Pride_

"Lawn," Shikamaru said to himself, filling in the last squares on a supposedly difficult crossword puzzle. He was sitting in the driver's seat of his dad's nicest shuttle, if such a thing existed, waiting for an important client's flight to land.

Well, important meant nothing to him. That distinction only annoyed him, so much that he forgot the customer's name. Great. Now he only had the word "important" to identify this passenger.

Whatever. Rich, important, richly important, importantly rich, it didn't matter. He didn't give a flying fuck. Besides, he had far more pressing things to deal with. For instance, he just finished the last of 30 crossword puzzles and sudokus, games he thought might subdue his inherent boredom. Leave it to a prodigy to underestimate his own genius.

Reaching for the radio dial and turning to his favorite radio talk show, he imagined what this mysterious person looked like. He envisioned an overly confident, recently graduated MBA student with a frat boy hair cut and a suit tailored to show off his air-filled muscles. But this guy, probably named Barrett, didn't seem important. Surely his father was the important one, supporting his incompetent and ungrateful son only to justify spending a fortune on his boy's pointless education.

Maybe it will be an old, fat man, perhaps a retired Congressman, forced to retire because of an exposed extramarital affair. In Shikamaru's wandering mind, this man – let's call him Bo James – was visiting the freshly-turned 18 year-old girl he cheated on his unreasonably loyal wife with. No. Definitely not important, Shikamaru thought.

Glenn Beck?* No. Too unimportant and too delusional to call himself important. He'd be more likely to say, "I'm just as American as you are. Is anyone really more important than anyone else? But yeah. I'm not riding with other passengers." So no. Shikamaru probably wasn't driving Glenn Beck across state, but if that were the case, he'd drive away before Beck could get in the van.

He was having a good time making fun of people that didn't exist until he realized where he was and why he was there. Right, he thought. I'm a chauffeur waiting for someone so pretentious that he had the guts to call himself important. Shikamaru did what he'd normally do – implement his favorite back up plan for unwanted situations and take a nap.

But it didn't last long. A chilly breeze blew through his opened window, and he quickly looked up.

That's when he saw her. She looked fierce, and not in the way Ino's stupid model show advocated. It wasn't her shapely suit that struck him or her sandy blonde hair. Not even her bold green eyes. She looked pissed, with a deadly glare that made Shikamaru shiver, and that's what made Shikamaru recognize her as his incredibly important passenger.

She stressed him out, heightening his senses in that typical biological reaction. Heart pumping, hands sweating, both actions that aided the animalistic instinct to get the fuck out.

Realizing he'd been staring at her, probably with a concerned look on his face, he hopped out of his seat and approached her, aiming for that careless attitude he normally exuded. But she made him uncomfortable. Terribly uncomfortable, like she'd pull his hair out if he said the wrong thing. And oh shit! He didn't even know her name!

Of all the times his brain could fail him, it had to be now. But Shikamaru wouldn't let that happen. He didn't want to die, especially not at the hands of this woman. He needed to say something, to utter any kind of sound if only to prove she hadn't taken that ability away from him completely. He reached deep into his mind's recycle bin and pulled out the name he'd been searching for.

"Temari Sabaku?"

"That would be me."

He was taken aback, even if he didn't show it. He'd be damned if he let on his distress. She spoke in a tone that didn't match her fiery aura. He gave her a questioning look, still trying to process how that powerful look could come with such a husky, flawless voice. (Flawless? What the fuck?)

Regardless, he didn't want to hear that voice again. He preferred her bitchy attitude over that tantalizing tone. She gave him a headache. He decided to get this trip done as soon as possible with as little interaction as possible.

So he approached her and took her bags, being careful to act like a gentleman, not that he needed to try hard. He was a Southern boy, after all. Hospitality came naturally to him. He figured that out of all the types of men in the world, gentlemen were the least likely to be punished by strange women like this one.

After he loaded her bags, Shikamaru opened the van door, giving her what he trusted was a friendly look. But she didn't get in, and he inwardly panicked. He watched her carefully to read her expression. His heart skipped a beat when she finally walked towards him and into the car. He couldn't help but stare at her and wonder what she was thinking.

While getting in and starting the van, he tried to plan how he could follow driver protocol with as little trouble as possible. He came up with,

"So you're headed to Hunstville?

"What?"

Could there be a more dreadful reaction? God. Fuck. He tried to save himself.

"The person who made your reservation said you needed to reach Huntsville." She said nothing, so he continued, "for some sort of business convention. Global Business Foundation or something like that."

Breaking her silence, she asked, "Hm. Do you mind if I call someone real quick?" She seemed too calm to be true.

"Not at all."

Maybe this wouldn't be as bad an experience as he thought.

"Jonathan, what city is the symposium in?" she burst. "Why didn't you tell me that, then? You didn't think I need to know information like that? Ugh. At least tell me what hotel you booked. It better be good."

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He had a bad feeling she'd take this anger out on him. But when she spoke next, she sounded dejected rather than livid. This woman was just as confusing as she was terrifying.

"Well, I guess I'm headed to Huntsville. How long is the drive?"

"Two hours." Two fucking long hours.

She stopped talking to him then and pressed into her seat, head back and body relaxed. Shikamaru could tell when someone needed rest. At least they had one thing in common, an inevitable need for sleep. She stilled scared him to death, but he offered his best advice anyways.

"You can fall asleep if you want to." And he thought she might.

The next ten minutes could not have passed any slower. Shikamaru desperately wanted to turn the radio up. His favorite NPR** segment was on and it'd been a while since he listened to it. He was 95% certain Temari fell asleep, but just to be sure he leaned forward to check. As luck would have it, she was wide awake, probably thinking over something as important as she was. It was incredibly awkward. She probably thought he was checking her out! Hopefully she thought different.

The awkwardness overwhelmed both of them. He could tell. In any other situation, he'd offer up a question to get a conversation going, but this wasn't any other situation. He had no other plan, though, so he followed through with his only choice and asked, "So, where are you from?"

It didn't quell the discomfort because she asked a question just as he asked his.

"What's your name?"

"Sorry. Go ahead."

"No. Your answer's more vital if we want this trip to go by faster." So she was as much of a bitch as she looked.

"My name is Shikamaru."

"Shikamaru? Not Shikaku?"

"Shikaku is my father. I work for him sometimes."

"I see." He could have let the conversation die, but for some reason he didn't.

"Now, tell me where you're from."

"New York. You didn't do much research, did you?"

"I don't Google search everyone I run across, so no. I didn't. What kind of business do you do up north?" Their tones grew more sarcastic by the minute.

"I run a business with my brothers." He suspected she was downplaying her job, maybe to save 'the poor shuttle driver' some embarrassment. "What do you do?"

"Besides drive shuttles?" Shikamaru offered, showing some signs of offense.

"Yes, if you do anything else, that is."

He knew what answer she expected. It's too bad he had to give it.

"I do the electrical work around my town." She didn't say anything, and Shikamaru hated her for it.

He knew she was celebrating victory in her head for rightly assuming he had an unglamorous job, but that wasn't what bothered him. He had a good life and was exceptionally bright, things Temari didn't and couldn't have known, yet she made her judgments about him based on where he lived.

Still, what bothered Shikamaru was something else. He wasn't ashamed of the choices he made – to forgo a lucrative career for small town living – but she made him feel like shit. And that's what made him hate her.

It wasn't something he'd let her get away with, so he came up with a plan to make her feel even shittier.

"That's a thick accent you've got there," he told, already knowing her reaction. Just as he thought, Temari looked incredulous.

"I have the thick accent? Have you heard yourself speak?" This bitch…

"It's not that bad. I've lived here all my life. You can't expect me to not have an accent," he countered. "But I almost lost it when I moved out for college."

"Where'd you go to school?" Of course she'd ask that. It was the only follow up question to what he said.

"I went to Stanford for one year, but a tornado wrecked my hometown so I moved back for another year to help clean up. I tried transferred to Vanderbilt*** part-time so I could keep helping rebuild. And now my job still revolves around tornado relief. As much as I want to get out of town, I'm probably gonna be here a while."

If that didn't change her opinion, he didn't know what would. It was such a sappy archetype – the goodhearted boy who can't achieve his dreams because awful things happen out of his control. The only thing sappier was if it were true. And for Shikamaru, it definitely was.

His plan worked. The atmosphere between them changed ever so slightly, but it was enough to give Shikamaru the upper hand. Even if she only felt an ounce of shame, the point was that she knew she fucked up. But the plan didn't end there. He needed her to call what she thought was his bluff.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty four. I graduated school early."

"High school or college?"

"Both. High school at 15 and college at 18." He'd laugh if she kept talking.

"Forgive me for not believing you," she challenged.

Taking his eyes off the road to look her square in the eye, Shikamaru retaliated.

"Just because I talk slow doesn't mean I'm stupid."

And with that, his plan was finished. She might not completely believe him, but her thoughts showed plain and clear her face. "Is this guy really a genius?" "Is he really that capable?" Yes and yes, Temari.

Shikamaru wanted more, though. He wanted to cement his status, to leave behind no questions of his potential.

"Look me up on Google. Then you'll see for yourself. Nothing like doing a little research, right?"

He had her in the palm of his hand, at least for the moment. He watched her note his smug smile, loving the bothered look on her face, but when he looked closer, he saw something he never expected. Through her annoyance and past her unease, Shikamaru saw what made him feel even more uncomfortable than when they first met. In her eyes, he saw a sign of respect.

The ride was just beginning. They still had a long way to go.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> I write like a textbook because I read mostly textbooks. He this. He that. Her this. Their that. I'm gonna do soooo well in biotech.

*Glenn Beck, the ridiculous, paranoid, and insane political commentator on the equally ridiculous, paranoid, and insane Fox News Channel who, besides his skewed (and offensive, and insensitive, and…) politicial opinions, says crazy things like "You know, we all have our inner demons. I, for one – I can't speak for you, but I'm on the verge of moral collapse at any time. It can happen by the end of the show."

**NPR, or National Public Radio. It's hard to explain. I'll just call it America's radio news channel. It always seemed non-partisan to me until I moved to Alabama, where apparently its part of the elite liberal media. But no. It's not. It's neutral.

***I think Stanford's one of the more recognizable universities in the world. However, Vanderbilt isn't. It's one of the best universities in the country. Most people think it's an Ivy League school. It might as well be.

In the first chapter, I made a reference to "Roll Tide." College football is HUGE in Alabama. It's on par with Christianity. Fans of The University of Alabama say "Roll Tide" and fans of Auburn University say "War Eagle." These two schools share the most hateful rivalry in all of sports. UA and Auburn share the past three National Championships, UA having the majority, of course. Roll Tide Roll.

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